


A very occult summer

by Eldritch_Screech



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: a bit creepier worldbuilding, cursed houses, cute date ideas, demisexual relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-02-26 18:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18722857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eldritch_Screech/pseuds/Eldritch_Screech
Summary: the summer after Hum Battenburg's sixth year at Hogwart shapes itself in uncanny ways





	1. Around the Haunt

**Author's Note:**

> ho boy, let’s dive right into that sweet occult&chill stuff!

Hestia comes back at the crossroads twenty minutes later, carrying a small scroll adressed simply „ _Hum – The crossroads, Ashclyst Forest_ ” and the girl practically hurtles down from the boulder she’s sitting at. She meets her owl mid-landing, offering her an arm to sit, and opens the scroll with fingers that are shaking a little. The bird gives her hair a friendly ruffle and settles itself snugly on Hum’s arm – and seems very interested in the twined charm that sticks out of the girl’s jean pocket.

The late afternoon light shifts into something else now, the colours slowly draining the lush greens from the trees and the grass around the bridleway growing matte in colour. It quiets down significantly but at least the birds can be heard still from time to time.

Muggles definitely show up here at times - just half an hour before Hum had to duck onto the enchanted part of the crossroads to avoid a pair of joggers running by; she’d look strange alone here, with a broom tucked under her arm. The teen slips back onto the road as soon as the road is deserted again – and hopes Charlie won’t be noticed when ( _if?_ ) he lands there. Hopefully, the oncoming darkness will keep people from wandering any deeper soon.

Hum is soon acutely aware of how the forest around her no longer bustles with life and how contours sharpen on things around her - and shivers a bit, not at all because of the chill; the air is still very warm, and heavy.

She can’t concentrate on the writing, expecting something to happen, on account of how things always seem to be happening on magical crossroads. That’s what auntie used to say and Hum herself had too much experience with strange phenomena not to trust Asteria’s heedings now.

Before getting back to the note Hum puts the charm beneath the standing stone again – just in case. Her broom lays on the ground next to her feet, almost vibrating with apprehension, ready to whip over ground at a moment’s notice. Charlie’s familiar, neat cursive works like a calming draught but Hum wishes she’d had some better reason to write; with all the help she was asking her friends for throughout the school year, it gives her a serious case of guilty conscience that she can't lay off even on holidays. Plus, she’s not exactly keen on imposing herself on the Weasleys like that. It’s not like they have extra space to sleep in, what with Bill’s old room taken by the twins. Hum doubts Mrs Weasley would let her feel unwanted - but she has her own house to live in. Now, if only this house wasn’t haunted...

_Hum, I hope this finds you fine and not too sore from sitting on mossy boulders. I’ll be on my way in no time. Thx for the map and don’t go breaking unknown curses without company please! ~~Not that you’re unable to~~_

_PS if anything happens, just **vermillious**  at me  ~~you know that~~_

_Ch_.

She chuckles and folds the note evenly, tucking it in her jeans. It will go into her journal, along with the letters from all of her friends – she likes to re-read them at times when feeling down which has been every evening recently.

Charlie rambles even in his letters but somehow he ends up scrawling over the best bits, the juicier or more personal fragments. He prefers to relay those in person and only recently had Hum started both noticing and appreciating it.

It’s a different kind of waiting, of being in these woods alone when she’s waiting for something good to happen. The girl stretches on the boulder languidly now, thinking about how to approach the house, now that she’d have a trusted partner to go about it soon. On the many adventures she’d had in Hogwarts all these years - because they’ve been many and have started as early as her first day at school - rarely had Hum been alone. She seeked quiet hours in the hipogriff stable and wandered the forest alone, mapping it or looking for plants and seeds to use, but to just lie down and  _be_  -

 _How scary and exciting,_  flits through her head and Hum has to agree with that apparently wiser voice in her head. Definitely have to try it out more – some other time maybe. She shifts into a lazy slouch now, one foot tapping to the catchy rhythm she heard on the radio playing in the bus. Neat of the driver to have a muggle radio on-

She’s moved into singing by the time Charlie appears in her vision, a golden red blur going down fast. A reckless flyer this guy, always. He halts to a graceful hover just as Hum jumps from her place and onto the rock’s highest point, arms already outstretched to greet each other among soft murmurs. He nuzzles into the crook of her neck, warm from the flight and Hums enjoys how loud his heart beats against hers. It does some funny things to her – kinda like cliff jumping with Tulip and Tonks last year. She’d like to invite him this time – the feeling of falling was like nothing else.

And it didn’t end with death nearly as often as flying!

„You’re here”, she says happily, hurriedly, untangling herself from his arms, but still reluctant to leave that familiar warmth; she leaves her hands atop his, where they grip the broom. Their fingers intertwine loosely and Hum looks at the boy, still a bit out of breath, whose grin mirrors her own. Are there even more freckles on his face than when they parted ways after school ended?

She wants to know that, out loud, and watches how he grows a bit flustered, a bit pink underneath. Perhaps watching him get like this shouldn’t bring her so much satisfaction, but if there was one thing that Felix had managed to instill in his younger protegee, way back in the first year, it was  _go for what do you want, ruthlessly; a_ nd she wanted to kiss every single freckle he had. So far they were down to just one cheek, as of their last care of magical creature class. She’d pursue the other one mercilessly--

Truthfully, she has no idea how to go about it now – the memory of June seems both very fresh but also curiously detached from her recent life, like it belongs to a story Rowan would read her before sleep and not her own, lived and breathed through. She didn’t end up kissing Rowan from atop the flying hipogriff above the Black Lake though - and that perhaps made their relationship easier to map out. The other Slytherin would definitely enjoy the aesthetic angle, however.

„Did the spell work?” she asks instead of acting, glad to put the confusing feelings into the designated drawer, hopefully not to be revisited again, probably. Perhaps, if she ignored whatever had happened before, it would be less awkward between them now – not that she already didn’t have the most easy-going friend , in the very boy who was jumping on the ground as she spoke, taking her by hand as he went.

„Bloody brilliant this spell, looked like something out of those muggle movies”, Charlie enthuses, proud he remembered all the muggle science-fiction they’d watched on the VHS the last time he’d visited her on the Diagon Alley. His dad would go crazy to watch this stuff, he adds chuckling. „Do you think anyone would take the lights for the UFO?”, he wants to know then and they look at each other, Hum in exasperation and Charlie innocently curious.

„Nobody saw you, right?”, Hum asks anxiously and her eyes criscross as she watches him removing a conifer needle from her arm. „Sure”, he adds lightly, catching her eyes after few seconds. He looks startled when he is caught in the act– he’s been tracing her hair absentmindedly where they fall along her arms, fingers deep into the thick waves. It seems he has something else on his mind.

„Are they longer? How long was it when school ended?”, he muses, looking at his own ponytail – it’s decidedly longer. He stares at her thoughtfully, his one hand still sifting through her hair delicately and Hum averts her eyes –

„Um, I didn’t really count, a month- I think a bit over a month maybe?”,

„I know how long it was, actually”, he supplies in the same light tone. Naturally, this is a boy who kept a tally of how often they went to the prefect’s bath both with Bill and together. And Hum is a science whiz crazy about numbers, math both muggle and magical – they both know they've been keeping count, and not at all for the reasons stated above. Her bedpost back in London bore exactly 30 notches when she was leaving.

„Can I offer you an offering of sorts…? It’s a one time deal – if you’re wiling to drop the charges, that is” Hum says, voice lilting. Her sly smile undermines any attempts at compunction but whatever – there will be time to talk deeply about whats and whys after all this, and they both are guilty as charged.

Charlie looks up at her and one corner of his lips lifts slightly – he tries to smother it but fails rather spectacularly and his smile only grows bigger. He’s rarely the one to hold a grudge, a deep, placid lake to her boiling pool. „Show me your wares and we shall see”, he practically purrs and Hum’s jaw falls a bit down because of it. Did he change places with his older brother?

Hum’s breath hitches a bit now but she’s determined, a wily hunter after a lovely companion and trusted curse breaker, so she prays silently to  _Hekate_  or  _Lilith_  or any witch deity really and imagines Felix for a second, just enough to focus – she often resorts to picturing his resigned grimace when planning a particular piece of rule braking.

The girl knows of no rules to break here, though. Before, every conversation on romance would usually glide over her like clouds in August and had left no blueprint she could consult now. She’d have to manage just like with walking on trees or flying hipogriffs – by trial and error. Lesser risk of breaking bones, still a fall.

„It’s take one, get” - she looks up, tries to count how many freckles are there over the right corner of his lips. The sun went down finally and it’s difficult to count so she’s got to be creative here. Takes half a step, watches how the broom he’s holding hits the rock behind Charlie’s back. „Five. Seven, actually”.

„One of what?”, the redhead asks bemusedly; but truly, it’s besides the point and he’s not backing up into the rock either. Obviously she’s offering herself and Hum wonders if it feels like payback for June. Ruining her solitary ride like that. Truly heinous.

It’s not difficult to reach his face, no tiptoeing beyond rudimentary needed and before her lips touch it, she can count – he has eight freckles dusted over the right corner of his lips. In truly Charlie fashion, he eagerly meets her halfway and they miss each other marvelously.

She’s after subtle introductions and he jumps straight into it like a wounded osprey – so it ends with their noses bumping awkwardly and eyes snapping open in shock. Trying again -- and failing once more leaves both of them in hysterics, doubling down into each other, laughing till they’re almost crying, their fingers weaved together till almost white.

„Still a very satisfying deal all things considered, pleasure doing business with you-” Charlie chuckles, mounting his broom just as she wipes away the wetness from her eyes. He kicks off in one fluent motion and offers his hand with a grin; taking it would be a fair deal after all this...

Hum considers telling him that she has her own broom now– the one she’s worked her ass off in the shop and at Fortescue’s to afford, throughout the last three summers. Alas, she can go back home on her own - the broom, that is. She seats herself sidesaddle-like in front of Charlie then, watching her own broom lift off and glide along the long path towards the house.

„Do you fancy a quick go at chasing away whatever haunts your house first, or perhaps mom’s chocolate pudding sounds far better?” Charlie teases, the broom already having taken them a bit over the treetops in the span it took for Hum to blink her eyes. She usually hates this with passion - but then dipping her sneakers into the leaves from above feels somehow liberating; she could hop onto the tallest branch if she wanted.

„Depends on your time constraints. We could fit in a pint of butterbeer at the Red Hare, five minutes to the east of the forest edge, in between the hauntings and the pudding if you can…?.

„Can’t say no to that”, Charlie laughs and Hum shakes from its reverberations from where she’s plastered into him by the sheer speed they pick up that very second.  _This_  she hates about brooms. It’s not a pony or a sturdy ‘griff but a pretty thin wooden pole, and forgive her for remaining a bit skeptical that she won’t fall to her death any time soon, with no water to duck into safely.

If not by the broom, that creepy mist from the hall would surely attempt to do the honours.

2.

„Can’t believe it took so much salt”, Charlie sighs, dipping a piece of bread into his soup.

They sit at the farthest corner from the bar, as discreet as can be without casting actual charms in the muggle world. Hum picks at the lacy cuff of her dress – the adventure had effectively ruined her previous clothes and that was the first thing she could find; the silky velvet made her shiver on their way here.

The fire in the hearth crackles cheerfully to Hum’s left, bathing their table in comforting shades of red and warming them up in no time. Charlie looks into it with a content smile, his cheek pink again from the warmth. They both are tired beyond words, dabbing at their food slowly – Hum feels as if half of her magic evaporated during the casting of that protective spell. Charlie looks very much the same. _If not for that cat..._

„Thank you for helping me out tonight”, she says sincerely, too spent to posture the usual nonchalance. He looks at her briefly and shrugs a little. As if this was a given he would do whatever he could do. It’s both inspiring and terribly scary – but Hum resolves not to think about the kinds of debt she was in, at least not this evening. In this place the last thing that needed to be said was how she was willing to repay them with her own blood. She imagined this would be a bit heavy to stomach.

Instead of pursuing the topic, she finishes her own food and folds her hands over the table, the plate pushed aside. She takes a deep breath, then another – the adrenaline that usually guides her on all the strange adventures starts abating and the usual anxiety sets in. She wonders if Charlie ever feels like this – he is courageous but also sensitive after all.

And pure.

The magic that got out that evening, free of aunt Asteria’s binding prowess, was anything but – and Charlie seemed to be shaken, where Hum was fascinated by its strange, otherworldly appeal. That is, when she wasn’t feeling like pissing her pants anymore.

She’s pensive again and when they look at each other a shared tiredness gets mirrored in both’ eyes. Hum hates the edge of anxiety that is still locked into his features, and that no amount of beer can wash over, never mind the lovely place they are at. She’d gladly eviscerate whatever threatened to put the fear there again but lacks resources yet; strength is something to be gained, and she is nothing but determined.

 _One day_ , she thinks, rolling an unused knife idly in front of herself. For now she should be happy for heeding Asteria’s warning – and bringing more salt than needed.

„I didn’t know this kind of magic even existed”, Charlie mentions in a whisper when they leave the inn, his breath warm on Hum’s ear. They walk thorough the village square in a leisurely stroll, both on the lookout for the best place to side-apparate. The houses line the streets snugly however and there are not many trees just yet. Lots of people are out, too – and it looks like they might have to take a bit of a longer stroll when a proper place presents itself.

„A shady, broken down phone booth with no lighting around – you’re a romantic gal at heart, ey?”, Charlie drawls skeptically but lets himself be stuffed inside just the same. Perhaps they shouldn’t have sent his broom back as well but try to...  _yeah, no_  - transmutating it would mean using magic in muggle areas. Way too risky. Hum can feel his heartbeat go faster now that they’re stuffed like sardines here – he's clearly out of his element. It's a fresh wound, failing the test apparently. Talented kids rarely dealt well with setbacks – and Charlie was too humble to voice how frustrating failing was to begin with. Hum could sympathize but no, not with the humility part.

„Hey, look at me”, she whispers, tiptoeing just enough to be on the same level. „It’s just to the forest edge, it would be super short. Then we can summon the brooms”. She does feel some satisfaction it’s her comforting him this time – on broom it’s him who has to reassure her she won’t fall to her imminent death.

„Now I can understand how you feel on a broom, I hate apparating”, Charlie grumbles but grins at her all the same – taking her hand one moment and landing at the dewy grass a split second after that, not the usual agonizing ordeal of collapsing into oneself and being regurgitated somewhere else but rather an effortless glide through another dimension.  _How much effort did it take?_ , he wants to know and Hum gives him a proud smile but refuses to elaborate more than  _tons_. The shit-eating grin stays on her face all the same though.

She is a „natural at this” and „insanely fast” and he can’t stop raving about that when they are flying back into the forest, mist already swallowing the ground and their feet lost into its white folds. None of them feels the need to go at it fast, flying knee to knee instead, warm from the food and all the beer.

The trees are towering over them and they pass sleepy meadows from time to time where they have to fly a bit higher, so as to see anything ahead. There’s no light besides a waning moon but the orienting spell Hum casts on Jacob’s address slip conjures a glowing path on the ground, a colour of poisonous violet, muted among all the whites but still visible

„Was yellow for me”, Charlie mutters and looks at her with concern that Hum shrugs away. „I’m too tired man, probably all the anger and exhaustion” she explains. Still, she leans into him when they stop to discuss whether the path was actually violet or just shaded.

3.

„You sure you don’t want to go to the Burrow?” Charlie asks as they hover over the ground in front of the porch. It seems the mist can’t enter onto the courtyard fully - it still swirls close to the ground weakly; strange plants glow around the perimeter in the darkness and they move with no breeze out there. One window is alight and none of them remembers even going into that room--

The cat that had saved their asses earlier on sits like a fat loaf of bread on the the steps, paying them no mind.

„It’s scary as hell” Charlie observes dryly, searching Hum's face for signs that she had changed her mind about staying. They’ve been discussing the issue for half an hour now – the boy belongs to the house of Lion after all. Hum is confident she could slither away from the danger just as well so it is like their usual dragons vs ‘griffs scuffles – none of them can win this for real.

„Honestly, no need to worry. I need to move in eventually – if anything happens, I will apparate straight onto your windowsill”, the girl reassures, hopping onto the ground confidently but not letting go of his hand just yet. It’s very easy to play the badass when there’s two of you but Hum reminds herself she could face the house, now that she had a rough idea what hides inside. In any case – there seemed to be no scarier creature than the cat around here and he seemed to be on her side anyway. More or less.

„The cat maybe will sort-of-help me?” she supplies, to his skeptical grimace.

„The cat is the problem, Hum”, he deadpans; so Charlie isn’t his biggest fan, apparently.

„It helped us”, she argues. It’s not like she’s a fan either.

„It literally sucked some sort of this miasma inside, sorry to be a bit wary of what the hell it is”, Charlie grumbles unhappily. But Hum can relate to the cat - sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do.

„It’s probably a lesser demon”, she says airily, locking eyes with the lily-eyed creature. Charlie looks like he’s about to fall of the broom from a heart attack, right then and there. „Look, you work with these in alchemy, check for yourself”, Hum adds quickly, remembering the golems her mother created. Naturally, if strong enough they could inhabit organic vessels as well – and Hum’s eyes fall on the cat. _It’s a real deal,_ she thinks with growing excitation.

„Either I”m staying and mom pays us a visit in the morning and  _kills_  us”, Charlie bites as Hum rolls her eyes, „or you go with me – isn’t this enough-”. He starts. „Ugh, it’s not enough for you, no? Should’ve known better”, the redhead adds defeated, eyes rolling hard. They aren’t in any place to lecture each other, really. 

„We could sleep within the circle of salt, your mom wouldn’t reach us--”, Hum offers helpfully and he laughs, giving her a kiss on forehead. „You’re mad, Battenburg” he murmurs and looks like he is actually considering.

„-but we can’t have you killed by anything else than a dragon, as extra as your mom is”, Hum adds, shoving him jokingly. „Honestly, she‘s probably worried lots, don’t ruin my chances with her like that--” . It’s a risky direction but she’s determined to keep him out of the danger. He has helped her immensely already – and getting herself killed there alone mere hours later would  _definitely_  do him a disservice. But better this than him getting hurt – and she is not above manipulation to keep her close ones safe.

And Charlie is the Best son, just like he is an overall angel – problem is, Hum really doesn’t want to move back to London and Burrow will just prolong the inevitable if she doesn't clear this house.

He looks torn as he lifts from the ground, clearly taught better than to leave others smack in the middle of the woods in a haunted house with a sentient golem soul to boot-

4.

„Not gonna leave you, no way--”.

Charlie Weasley flies down at her porch not fifteen minutes later after taking off, a furious blur with all colour bled out by the darkness around, and lands with a heavy thud, broom forgotten in the wet grass instantly. Hum watches him stride forward, cussing breathlessly. She is confident she could see his face down the steps if she squints though – and it’s very lovely indeed, even with all the exhaustion. Particularly because of it.

The girl still hasn’t gone inside, opting to sit on the porch steps cocooned into a heavy blanket, petting a cat. It jumps from her knees and sits by, giving its paw a lick once Charlie gets closer.

She’s been determined to unearth its secrets – and was so far rewarded with half-serious bite and a scratch. He did eat a few of her owl treats though – and Hestia looms over him from the railing like a very skeptical gargoyle.

„Hello again, lovely to see you”, she greets him and stands up, barely feeling where her feet land out of tiredness. It was a very long day and she doesn’t know if he stands far or just few steps away. It definitely takes eternity to reach him.

„The blanket…?”, Charlie looks at it, one singed through brow shooting upwards. She can hear the question to follow and chuckles half-heartedly.

„ _Accio_ -ed it from across the threshold. Too wary to go there….” He slips his hands beneath the blanket, hands so cold she gathers him into herself, beneath the blanket that’s big enough to share. „...just yet.”, she ends sleepily and yawns; she can feel his palms crush the material of her dress where they end up on her back.

It feels less scary now. He’s warm and she’s so very sleepy, and it’s very comfortable where she is right now,  _thank you_.

„Just yet?”, Charlie challenges - but as her head lolls back lazily he follows her down, capturing her lips, already almost open for him. Hum doesn’t have any mind to try and joke about seeing all his freckles from this close, not with her tongue otherwise occupied. She's too concentrated on how warm and downright slithery-soft it feels, and if she is honest she finds standing a bother now - so they end up on the ground, dew and earth clinging to their clothes. The grass feels cold, still not colder than his hands when they slide along her sides, her arms, over her neck-

How her palms slip under his robes and explore she doesn’t fully remember, and Hum feels very much like a burglar that Rowan has always said she was apt to be. She makes sure her hands do no funny things there – out of respect, naturally. Wouldn’t mind being burgled herself though and she presses into him fuller, until they are tangled in the blanket together, his hand slipping through the zipper on her side, under the camisole she wears beneath the dress -

\- and Hum’s pretty sure her hair are wet now from the dew, because world has tilted some moments ago and she’s gently pressed into the grass, under the gentlest assault she could ask for.

They stay like that until Charlie actually sneezes and they both realize it’s the middle of the night, Mrs Weasley is likely gearing to kill them in the morning for indecency and a lesser demon sleeps on the porch some three meters to their side.

„I’ll make us some tea, with brandy in it. A brandy with tea in it, I mean”, Hum drawls weakly, her tone dreamy and hair dripping wet. She wonders if her lips are as reddened and tired as his. Probably. Walking proves a sufficient challenge but they somehow reach the threshold, the blanket long forgotten on the lawn. They stand in front of the doors holding hands, shivering from the cold and wet. Hum’s nose is running and Charlie sneezes again.

It’s 3 in the morning. The salt is whirling in the hall like snow now, moved as if by a gentle winter breeze, and lit faintly red by something from behind.

They look at each other and then cross the threshold together.


	2. Holey rocks against feral mothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie bonds with aunt Asteria's familiar and is gifted a somewhat cool rock. The pair flies to face Mrs Weasley, and that's nearly not as cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happens right after the previous one

1.

It’s well into the morning when Charlie wakes up, Hum’s weight no longer like a comfortable blanket on him. The birds are making a ruckus in the treetops outside and it’s very warm. He can’t hear Hum’s breathing.  _She probably went off exploring_ , the redhead reassures himself - and his stomach grumbles.  _Just what the hell can we eat;_ _now_ _that’s a_ _pickle,_  the boy thinks with concern next, unwilling to open his eyes just yet.

He reaches his hand in search for another body that maybe, hopefully, had merely rolled off him, but it’s clear Hum is not there – her camisole is, and Charlie retracts his hand like a very panicked crab. He’s alone on the mattress they’d hastily threw on the ground come sunset.  _The breakfast is on him_ , then, which is his task back at home - so no big deal here.

Still, Charlie knows there’s a blissful desert where the pantry should be. Before going to sleep, the pair had raided the larder and all that was edible was a packet of buttermilk rusks, a jar of cranberry jam and some old claret. Lots of claret. They polished all of it, the kitchen suffused with the strange mist they knew should've been banished for good. Crunching kind of takes the edge of the things however – and they got used to the red light eventually as well.

This time, the mist has left them alone – maybe the cat weakened it enough for the protection to start working? Bill would have a lark seeing them try and bind it the day before – right after he’d kill them for doing dangerous stuff unsupervised, that is. This thought finally chases away all hopes for more sleep Charlie might still entertain – his eyes shoot open and the boy moans in discomfort.

He blinks once, and then several times more, trying to adjust to the unholy brightness that invades the room. His palm lies just outside the salt circle, he sees now, and the redhead starts with anxiety. Moving into a crouch, Charlie strains his hearing, trying to discern if it’s safe. The sudden softness assaulting his side sends him into a panicked yelp a second after that; he’s happy there’s no one to hear this. Although – he reasons – you could and  _should_ fear magical cursed houses, if anything.

Or maybe Charlie just lacks the same patience he’d have for, say, a particularly feisty Hungarian Horntail? On the other side, Hum looked positively enamored with all the spectral possibilities in here, once the alcohol had killed the last vestiges of her self-preservation come morning. None of them enjoyed being drunk that much – certainly made undressing more enjoyable though–

The cat is there by his side, Charlie sees, and it purrs like a very old heater his father had tried to set up one Christmas Eve. It’s trying to fish for the owl treats in his pocket - Charlie uses these to get on Hestia’s good side. The boy hesitates but relents eventually, sharing the nuggets that got squished somewhere in-between him rolling on the grass and then in this circle of salt again.  _Good times._ _Funny exorcism_ _before_ _. Forgive his sarcasm._

“This doesn’t mean anything, you’re still the enemy-”, he grumbles, but can’t help and grin at the cat. It’s a pet – Charlie can’t say no to a pet. If he wishes for dragons, surely a cat-demon can’t be worse-

It loafs itself up fastidiously when Charlie exhausts his treat supply, and the redhead observes that -filling the breach in the salt circle - the creature completes the protection area neatly now.  _Huh._ The boy strokes his chin thoughtfully , exchanging his stare for a relaxed blink from the cat. It seems there will be no shortage of secrets to unearth with this one, and it's  _right_  up his alley. With a future alchemist by his side they’d crack it open in no time-

Just then something thuds against the tilled roof outside, and when Hum slips into the room she finds Charlie clutching his heart like an elderly witch at a particularly weepy wedding. She laughs at him and the boy  _hmphs_ , his head jerking in feigned indignation. He can’t pretend for long, not when she lets out a bevvy of rather peculiar objects fall on his lap as if she’s found some special treasure.

Charlie can’t help but look at the odd shapes - figurines and charms; a pine cone that looked like it was slathered with tar, some rocks and a seashell out of all things - and feels his brows riding high up in bemused interest. He had this reserved for when Mom was particularly trying, or the twins obnoxious. He didn’t take Hum for being bonkers as well - surprisingly.

She’s standing over him with the face of a hunter proud to share her spoils, and the redhead blinks at her owlishly. He rolls a particularly colourful stone in his fingers and feels it’s hollow inside – it’s pretty, and oddly warm, but not exactly a sensational material. “What exactly am I missing here?” Charlie asks, and he’s sure he catches the cat rolling its eyes.  _The audacity_ …

“Holey stone!”, Hum cries (“with some other trash”, she then mutters absentmindedly), and in one purposeful swipe she breaks the circle of protection even further in front of his dumbstruck face; the tips of her black converse shoes go white from salt. Some gets into his nose, and Charlie sneezes. This reminds him he’s supposed to have a cold, so he coughs dramatically, just for the effect. It gets lost on Hum, who’s doing some stretchy dance moves now, a typical warm-up whenever she’s stressed or just stiff.

“Now we’re set as far as protection goes!”, the girl lilts from across the room, completing a twirl that sends her dress rippling.  _Maybe it’s for the better_ , Charlie muses,  _she’d probably drench him in the Pepper-up if she noticed._

“So I’ve been checking on the protection charms to the south of the house, and some of these littered the ground”, Hum supplies, jumping from one foot onto another like a nimble dancer. “Of course it’s possible the whole protection system got disrupted by taking them”, the girl adds in a defeated voice as she ends her movement with her foot almost reaching her ear; she’s wearing sports shorts beneath the dress.  _That’s freaky_.

 _Naturally, she couldn’t keep her collecting instincts at bay_ , Charlie thinks then and snickers. Then he coughs and before he can say anything she jumps in front of him like a concerned mother eagle. Mother dragon, really.

“We may find some Pepper-up in the medicine cabinet. I know she had tons of medical stuff around here”, Hum mutters, caressing his heated cheeks with cold fingers from where she towers over him. He leans his forehead into the pleasant cold her palms provide. Best friend ever–  _if those kissed you_ , he reminds himself. Should they discuss the nomenclature? For now he stretches himself back on the mattress contentedly.

Her legs are bare, Charlie notices then, and staring upwards the redhead can see fine, almost translucent hair lining the skin over her knees. Underneath, band-aids litter her calves, as if a vicious kneazle had a go at them. Maybe a razor debacle gone wrong? Hum is tanned from the sun now and he keeps wondering what exactly she’s been doing when she went AWOL on him last month –  _she did mention having to ‘search for her own dragons’_ , Charlie remembers and with that he pushes the jealousy away. Guess he would have equally great many adventures in Romania when the time comes.

“OK, so you found a hag rock”, he mumbles from the floor, his hands snaking around Hum’s ankle so that they wouldn’t have to move just yet. Goosebumps break on her skin in response to his touch, and she gives out a shaky laugh; he can feel how warm of her skin is. “Do you think it’s going to be effective?”.

“I guess I’ll see tonight”, Hum muses, tapping a finger to her lips, which Charlie sees thanks to no small acrobatics of his own; he’s comfortable where he is, for sure.  _Wait, “I will”?_ He voices his surprise then; truthfully, he planned to sneak out of the Burrow again tonight. What mom didn’t know…

“What? You can’t really move in with me just yet”, Hum observes matter-of-factly, helping him stand up. She snickers and brushes away a dusting of salt from the tip of his nose.“Your mom is gonna kill us as it is-”

“Mom!”, the redhead starts, and if he wasn’t scared of the mist enough, his mom definitely came right next to that. The teens exchange anxious looks and it’s obvious the breakfast will have to be postponed.

“Do you think this–rock- will work on her?”, Charlie wants to know and Hum slips it into his pocket with grave expression on her face. 

“Not risking it. It does repel demonic powers, after all”, the girl mumbles and looks behind, where a leftover sack of holy salt sits.  _Is she going to sprinkle mom with it?_ , Charlie thinks panicked - but Hum merely fills in the gaps she’d previously broadened within the protection circle. Clearly, she’s not risking this one either. 

“What are you doing?”, Charlie wants to know, observing how the girl fishes a sort of compass from her purse . _Who actually carries a masonic divider in there?_ , the boy wonders but stays silent - one doesn’t get between witches and their occult paraphernalia.

It’s actually interesting to watch Hum setting to work, scratching small shapes in the floorboards. The cat moves away as if burnt then, and Hum absentmindedly gives it an owl treat of her own, to sweeten the affront. Hestia, who’s landed on the windowsill after her owner, looks like she’s had enough - and monopolizes the rest of the stash; it seems a rivalry is forming. 

“Hexafoils”, Hum announces over her arm eventually, a spattering of markings dotting the boards now. “Solomon’s Knots, daisy wheels…Except those belong here–”. She’s mumbling now, moving onto the windowsill and leaving two more there. Then it’s the door-frame and Charlie rolls his eyes - soon she’d banish the cat from the room permanently. It looks incredibly agitated, trying to tiptoe in-between the offending symbols.

“Right, it should be enough-”, Hum starts speaking, notices Charlie, who’s grown anxious even more by then. The girl gives him a sympathetic pat on the arm. “I’m flying with you”, she says, and Charlie doesn’t know if he actually fancies the idea of her getting trampled by his furious mom.  _But then, perhaps she’d prefer it to the demonic infestation in here?_

“If this is our last moment left”, Hum starts, her whisper stage-dramatical, “know I had no better friend than—Rowan, actually”, she ends up, bursting out laughing and Charlie knows it’s the truth, so he merely sighs in exasperation.

“I still adore you to my bones”, the girl adds affectionately, first time saying anything remotely romantic to him - and looks very surprised at her own words. It’s very pleasant thing to hear - but he’s to busy trying to locate his jaw on the floor, so the momentum to say something smooth back passes him -  rather underwhelmingly.

“Um, yeah-”, Hum mutters, moving to gather her bag and avoiding his stare like it’s holy water; Charlie still wonders how she isn’t allergic to the holy salt, sometimes.

They both deflate considerably and busy themselves with preparing for inevitable demise later this afternoon. The sun is pretty high on the sky and there are no clocks in the room. It may as well be noon – or later than that. The pair makes a hasty exit via the windowsill once they’re ready, and they leap onto the courtyard via the many-gabled roof nimbly. 

2. 

“What now-”, Charlie muses, looking for his broom without conviction, while Hum paces in front of the house. Magic crackles around the courtyard like ozone before the storm and their eyes somehow can’t meet; both are feeling sufficiently chastened, now that consequences for staying the night are to be had, but it is hardly a reason for avoiding one another.

Charlie trips over his broom eventually and that’s how he finds it – he mounts it without usual gusto, only to find Hum already hovering over the giant oak, easily the biggest tree they’ve seen around here. She’s kicking the branch dejectedly, chasing away a great spotted woodpecker eventually, from where it’s been hiding within the branches. 

“I think we can reach the Burrow in half an hour”, Charlie tells her, and Hum sighs but flies first all the same. It’s clear she’d rather apparate there.

As much as they are pressed for time, Hum had never been to the Burrow before so they can’t really do that now; and Charlie doesn’t want to risk side-apparating, when even on his own the risk of flunking is considerably high. They resort to the flight with resignation, both reluctant to pick up their speed once they start – fifteen or twenty minutes barely makes a difference when a feral lioness waits at the end of the line.

Both are feeling a bit grave, so not many words are exchanged. Or maybe it’s because both are slightly dumbfounded – Charlie catches himself wondering if he should somehow reciprocate Hum’s assertion from before, now. Seems awkward though.

As their brooms glide through the balmy August air, they observe meadows dotted with knapweed, meadowsweet and cat’s ear – butterflies flit to them in swarms. A grove of Redwood trees covers a summit they fly over at some point, emerald grass shining on the neighboring glade. A gentle breeze plays with their hair – Charlie lifts his hands from the broom handle and ties his hair back into a ponytail; somehow he’d forgot to do that before.

He steals a glance at Hum then, flying a bit in front of him; he prefers to keep his eye on her like that -  hates flying unless it’s a sturdier ‘griff’s back, this one. The boy allows himself a private smile – she’d probably choose a muggle car over a broom if possible. He notices a downturned curve of her mouth then, how it evens out once she catches him watching. Her expression is mostly thoughtful, or maybe a little bashful; either way it’s clear she prefers to enjoy the view over other things. By other things, Charlie realizes, he means himself – he rather enjoys when she watches him at times, thinking herself to be sneaky.

They drift to the north after a while, choosing to fly over empty fields. Swaths of land unroll beneath their feet and their brooms pick up speed. Burrow appears on the horizon and Charlie suddenly feels apprehensive. A mansion in the woods, this is not. The level of dilapidation is significantly smaller, however, and the redhead sticks to this thought, instead of worrying if Hum will like it.

He calls for her attention and shows her where to veer. There’s a dense wood encircling the house in a crescent shape to the west, but that’s not where Charlie wants to land. He leads them to the further part of the garden now, where abundant garden blooms that Mrs Weasley cultivates closer to home give way to wilder, unruly undergrowth, further east. They’d have to stroll by the water edge and brave brambles and holly thickets, but the redhead hopes they could talk a bit before being spotted – and without wind whistling by their ears.

They make a graceful landing, evading detection both by skill and sheer luck – there’s nobody outside, except few chickens roaming behind the house. Hum loves chickens, alive naturally – and he sees her mouthing “sweet” with enthusiasm when she spots them from above. She hops to the ground mid-landing then, and ducks behind the dense copse of elder trees. She seems to have perfected that dramatic roll to safety people would do in muggle action movies sometimes and Charlie chuckles as he joins her in hiding.

The perspective of meeting his mom and guilt sits heavy behind his eyes – and they join hands, wordlessly, once their eyes meet. It feels right to be close again.

“Morgana’s tits, we’re in it for good, aren’t we?”, Hum asks, cheek against his arm, and Charlie murmurs something incomprehensible in response.“What?”, the girl doesn’t hear and his eyes reluctantly go back to hers.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have come here with me, less chances of you dying”, he jokes weakly - but they don’t laugh. Hum makes a wordless motion to his pocket with her chin - and Charlie chuckles. A hag rock seems like a feeble defense still.

“Either your mom or the house, not much of a choice here”, Hum mutters, fingers combing through her hair in frustration – she has a lion’s mane of blond hair, Charlie notices only now, and wonders what had happened to the silver from before.  _Did she enter her rebellious phase?_  The golden, wheat-coloured waves soften her face, but she’s anything but stiff. “Plus, I need to apologize”, she adds then, looking up to his surprised expression.

“Wha-Why would you need to…?”, he wants to know, but Hum laughs humourlessly and makes a sweeping gesture that suggests  _everything_.

“Your mom doesn’t know, right? How… _adventurous_ you’re at school?”, she wants to know and Charlie hangs his head in reluctant assertion. Fortunately, Percy still hasn't  _ratted_  him out yet – pun very much intended. To mom, the fact he spent the night outside home, at his girl-friend’s house to boot ( _did he still need to hyphenate this or no_?). She’d never believe in the curse breaking stuff, because she had no past reasons to. For all she knew, he was having adventures of a different kind, and that was quite less fortunate.

Hum gives a strained sigh, as if to summarize all that has transpired wordlessly between them – they were in for some scolding, hand-wringing and lying-through-their-teeth kind of ordeal. At Hogwart’s it was business like usual – with Mrs Weasley it wouldn’t do this easy.

“What do we say, about -”, Charlie gestures, very generally, at them both and Hum chews on her lip, pink creeping on her cheeks. It suddenly feels quite vital to follow her every minute expression, and Charlie shifts so he can do just that. He hopes her penchant for tricking school personnel in the past would work on mom to a degree. Mrs Weasley has already became immune to his charisma - but perhaps could fall for a fresher kind of charm?

“Ugh”, Hum mutters, face leaning into her knees and the girl rocking lightly in deep thought. “We will go with the simplest, neatest route – we had fun, worked hard with the house cleaning, had one too many a butterbeer after-”, Hum lists off the reasons using her fingers to illustrate, and Charlie follows her with an unreadable expression on his face. Garden gnomes flit in his peripheral vision but he chooses to ignore them – never had anything against the little buggers anyway-

“-and that’s that”, Hum finishes and the redhead by her side whips his head back to her a little too eagerly. She rolls her eyes and waves a hand in front of his eyes amusedly.

“Sorry, got distracted”, Charlie apologizes but feels relieved when the girl clarifies the details. She believes saying he had to stay the night on her insistence will somehow soften the blow for him, specifically. That coming from non-relative, she could hide behind her status. It’s not the best excuse – but it’s pretty realistic. Whether his mother would think their friendship was just that ( _what was it actually?_ ) or assume they’ve shagged like rabbits was outside their control.

They get off the ground, brooms secured by their sides, and start trekking towards the house. Brilliant patches of pink phloxes and mounds of bergamot rise on the horizon as they walk by the water that spills widely to their left. Their hands barely touch – it seems obvious it’s better not to act as anything but friends for now. If Charlie could help it, he’d keep all  _that –_ and he glances at Hum, catches her reassuring smile and his breath hitches a bit,  _what was he thinking right now–._ He’d prefer to keep it to himself, the point was.

Charlie wonders if they should talk before his mom gets to them - this may be the last chance for a while (he is so grounded!). He steers Hum from the beaten path gently, behind a copse of large flowering shrubs that mark where the garden starts. Hum looks at him with eyebrows knitted, wondering maybe if he has second thoughts about their agreed tactics.

“Um”. Charlie is actually at a loss for words, which is not an attractive quality for a Gryffindor - but a natural thing for human beings, and he tousles his hair, searching for words. “This may be the last time before I’m grounded” – he starts and looks at the girl in front of him. It’s already dawned at her it’s not the war council and Hum looks positively shifty – like she’d rather join the gnomes in-between the breaches in the garden wall, than have this talk right now.

The girl looks like she wants to interject before Charlie can continue, but from her open mouth nothing comes out - so she just closes it, promptly. Charlie can’t help but look – now she’s chewing on her lips and it’s not helping.

“I should’ve said something, the morning- noon actually”, Charlie corrects himself and sighs. “The thing is, I'm pathetic at nice and round words about feelings and- stuff, so-”

He stops lamely, searching Hum’s face - but her brows are still knitted, one corner of her lip puckered in a skeptical grimace. She’s thinking deep, again, and this looks like anger on her face _._ Charlie had seen her burst out in thunderous anger before, but never at him – it seemed that she aimed not to emulate his mom’s explosive style both in anger and affection, by choice. This realization hits him now, as he watches her very clearly relate to his words – that’s what her face shows now, a shared understanding.

“Doesn’t have to be round or anything”, she mutters then, her words directed more at her shoes than towards him. Clearly, similarly pathetic skills in realms of romance was a shared trait between them.  _What was the book Bill’s been reading? It was about charming knickers on the witches? Or off them?_

They’re both in thought again, wind moving the stems and delicate flowers behind Hum’s head. When she looks up at him finally, the sun hits her face and she squints a little, makes an eye shade with her fingers to better see. “Just speak-”, she says, hair whipping in the sudden wind and getting into her mouth. Charlie chuckles and helps her tuck them behind her ears.

“Charlie? Charles, is that you? Are you all right??-”.

His mom’s voice carries from the direction of his house, made weaker or stronger depending on how feisty the wind is at the moment. They share a panicked stare, time they had for each other suddenly shrinking to a space of a child’s snow ball. Hum cusses but pulls him in just as she takes a step back - deeper into the shrubbery and into herself.

It’s still some distance from the house and Charlie knows mom doesn’t enjoy apparating anymore than he does – so he just waves his free hand from behind the bush and gestures for Mrs Weasley to actually come there; this kind of bullshitting, he learned from all the adventures around Hum and their friends. They’re aligned as close as possible now, arms vice-like around each other, and Charlie allows himself to close his eyes and breath deeply. Two hundred meters, if on foot.

Mrs Weasley shouts to him  _to stop joking and come out_  but he ignores it. Something teases the delicate skin over the right corner of his lips and without opening his eyes he knows it’s Hum and she’s onto the rest of his freckles, as he had an inkling she’d eventually do. It’s slow and delicate as feather touch but she does manage before mom’s voice becomes pronounced. It’s the first time he feels a pleasure this visceral – a rarity for him.

They maybe have a minute or two, at best, so Charlie allows his mouth to open, accepting a kiss that’s far more delicate than his from last evening or morning, whatever. It’s an exploratory one, of testing the possibilities and the boundaries, and Hum curses when his hand slips under the hem of her dress, to ghost the curve of her behind - and falls just as fast because his mom is  _onto_  them, any time now.

It’s painful to leave the warmth of their shared space - but it’s just their lips that are aligned now, and once they break the contact they’re hopefully a pair of slightly breathless people, bit disheveled from the flight.

“I’m bloody mad for you, Battenburg”, Charlie whispers breezily, ignoring how her jaw falls, and ducks his head from out of the shrubbery, a pleasant smile directed at Mrs Weasley who’s breathless from walking this fast, but happy to see him. He’s equally happy, the boy recognizes. He pulls the slightly dumbfounded girl by the hand, graciously like the best of hosts, and pushes her delicately in front of Mrs Weasley. They both have their best poker faces on, Hum rolling her eyes at his gallantry and giving Mrs Weasley her best  _I’m-just-a-friend_  smile that Tonks had taught her once.

“Mom, you remember Hum Battenburg”, Charlie grins, eyes crinkling in his best attempt at casual joviality, even if his legs are shaking a bit. He gives Hum’s arm a joking pat and she reacts appropriately cordial.

“She’s our new neighbor”, he says - their eyes meet and go, with some effort-

“-and my best friend”.


	3. Bluebell Patch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hum and Charlie share a lazy afternoon on the bluebell patch, thoughts of adult life weighing at least one of them down.

„So it’s basically uninhabited?”, Charlie asks, his voice muffled where his face is buried in the foliage, just shy of the blanket fringe.

It’s a hot summer afternoon when they tire of exploring the protective boundaries around the house and flop onto the ground among the most brilliant patch of bluebells Hum had ever seen. She, well, hums her agreement („National Trust-owned” she mumbles and feels his mumbled half-understanding from where it reverberates on her skin when he turns to her side) His forehead is warm against her arm.

They don’t really talk much, mostly by each other sides but in their own worlds. Something catches Hum’s attention then and she points out to somewhere so he has to move on his back to see.

„See this? Purple emperors and white admirals. Can’t imagine getting tired of those, so colourful”.

The redhead rises halfway from the ground, squints and his mouth forms the tiniest of O’s when he notices brilliant clouds of butterlies flitting among the oaken treetops and even closer to the ground, where he could reach his hand and let them rest at it if he wanted. He then shakes himself a little and grins at her.

 „I-”

„Still prefer the dragonflies, is what you want to say right?”, the girl supplies before he can open his mouth and he laughs, throwing himself back on the blanket and tousling her hair affectionately.

„You might think it’s because they have a dragon in their name-”. He pauses, looking at the nonplussed stare leveled at him from where they lay nose to nose. „Well, it is mostly that, yes, but they do have a sleek beauty of their own”.

„Like tiny helicopters”, Hum whispers and then naturally Charlie wants to know what kind of a creature  _those_  are and they bicker over Muggle ingenuity not a minute later because Charlie had  definitely heard something about muggle technology but  _how they manage without the floo_  is well beyond his willingness to understand. 

They keep talking over each other, citing muggle and wizarding inventions and trying to get a rise from another because let’s be honest none of them really know what they’re talking about anymore.

„Take the plane, how awesome that somebody saw a bird and-and-”. Hum yawns then and in her mind she most certainly hears herself making a passionate and articulate argument against ridiculing muggle science…

 But suddenly it’s much later in the day and she wakes up buried into Charlie like a koala against the tree, and he’s the eucalyptus leaves apparently because she has his hair in her mouth now.  Apparently she sometimes chews on them for comfort when they’re this close.

„Can’t believe you’d let such an occassion to shine, to  _obliterate_  me in a discussion - just go”, Charlie sighs dramatically and rubs his eyes, yawning as well. It seems he might’ve been napping by her side for a while, too. He has a book whipped out though so must’ve fallen asleep long after she had.

„How long was I…?”

„Oh just how long it takes to fly from London to Bucharest, apparently”, Charlie supplies and snickers. „You talk in your sleep. Made an impassionate argument for  _something_ , definitely”.

„Three hours? From London to Bucharest…”, Hum cradles her head between her knees, slow on the uptake for the time being. „By plane…?”, she adds and Charlie laughs out loud.

„I think. Said something about side-apparition in contrast. Already planning how to reach me once we graduate?”, he asks wiggling his eyebrows and that sobers her up in no time.  _That_  would be an issue, after all.

„Hopefully I’m rich by then and can afford all the powder I can”, she laughs, trying to cover her anxiety with an extra dose of nonchalance. It will be difficult, trying to keep in touch.

 It started feeling like a summer romances she’d heard about from her colleagues and Hum discreetly slips her hand away from where Charlie was absentmindedly stroking his thumb against her longer fingers.

Apparently people feel torn when those seem to be close to ending but for Hum it’s more like a very strange new dimension starts to open and they have to part ways to start on their quest separately. Certainly not like having her heart torn; more like a map cut in a half - but she was  _good_ at drawing these from scratch.

„Man, that was a downer”, she confesses and they share a half-exasperated, half-warmhearted glance. If there’s one thing she knows even if just mostly theoretically for now - it’s that being sixteen is not a time to settle down and that whatever adulthood was about wouldn’t even start well after graduating Hogwart. 

What it actually entailed Hum didn’t know, just as she didn’t know if she even wanted to be sad over Charlie eventually leaving. Or if she even wanted to be with him the way people seemed to pair off after school.

 _Satan’s balls, she didn’t_. Not if it meant marriage, children. Or being productive members of society, for that matter.  _I don’t ever want to leave this blanket_ , she thinks to herself rebelliously then, curling into a fetal position and touching her forehead to her knees. In this ball of denial not even the love of her teenage years could reach her.

Whatever love actually meant, she should ask as well, beyond the kisses happening far and between the Hipogriff corral and prefect’s bathroom; or flying broom together way too close to each other; or all the touching;or-

_Maybe I should apply for that alchemy apprenticeship?_

She wouldn’t voice the many thoughts that tore her in differing directions to Charlie just yet, not before she was sure she could walk through life without his reassuring hand on her arm and without anger at how early he had everything figured out. She was in dire need of her own path in life, beyond what Jacob had inevitably put into motion with his past actions. Figuring out a general direction seemed like a good first step to try her hand at.

It would take longer for her but no less rewarding in the end and wherever they’d found themselves to be at any moment -

 _She could apparate there within three hours at worst._  And that was faster than any muggle invention could take her.


End file.
